


Human Beings Are Simple Creatures

by printfogey



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Ginzura - Freeform, In-Between Scenes, Lack of Communication, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Secret Relationship, Shoka Sonjuku, Spoilers, Yearning, dumbassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/pseuds/printfogey
Summary: Gintoki starts to notice something about Katsura's behaviour when they're alone that bothers him. But these two are so bad at opening up and talking...A Gintoki/Katsura fic starting somewhere vaguely mid-canon and ending after the final chapter. Beware of spoilers. Has some GinTakaZura vibes and some Katsura->Ikumatsu.





	1. Bombs And Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> As noted in the summary, this fic starts off somewhere vaguely mid-canon and ends after the final manga chapter in canon. The last few scenes not only have plenty of late spoilers, but are hard to understand if you haven't read the manga to the end.  
There are GinTakaZura vibes, but Takasugi doesn't appear on the page.  
The E rating is based on chapter 3.
> 
> This fic can easily be read as being in continuity with my previous fic Annoying Friends Are No Less Annoying When They Come With Benefits, but the connection is loose and they both stand on their own well enough that I haven't put them into a series.
> 
> Many thanks to [Plipdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plipdragon) for much-valued feedback and encouragement for the whole fic, and to Tonko for very appreciated feedback for the third chapter! I couldn't have finished this without the help from both of you. ♥
> 
> Constructive criticism is very welcome!
> 
> DISCLAIMER because I'm old-fashioned: The characters of Gintama are owned by their creator Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fic is not to be used for profit in any way, and may not be posted elsewhere without the writer's approval.

_ "When death is far off, people are ready to line up ideals, faiths and tedious theories, but when standing at death's maw, they realize for the first time that humans simply want to live or want to die by the side of those they trust. That is all. We are plain and simple creatures."_

Kotaro Katsura, in conversation with Toshiro Hijikata, Lesson 545

* * *

It was, when it all came down to it, a highly dodgy idea to start poking at stuff that seemed to be working decently enough already. Or at least working as well as could be expected, and certainly much better than he deserved. And to Gintoki’s questionable credit, he had indeed resisted even admitting to himself there was anything to poke in the first place. 

This thing, this, what to call it, _practical arrangement_ he and Zura had had going on for some time now, private and quiet like back in the war, sometimes even as quick and hurried as back then – well, it wasn’t like Gintoki had anything like an official long relationship to compare it to. And he knew they weren’t the most well-adjusted people, either of them, so it was dumb to expect too much. 

That was what Gintoki figured when he gave the whole thing a thought on a day that had turned out to be an in-betweenish kind of day, neither too good nor too bad. He’d gotten paid for a job, but couldn't dodge paying the rent; he was about to pick up a new job but it fell through in the end, though maybe that wasn’t too bad since it had sounded like a huge chore to do. He ducked one annoying acquaintance only to stumble right into another instead, and then the grocery shop had a sale on rice but had raised the price on dog food. That kind of day. 

Then late in the afternoon he’d gone for a walk and had run into Zura, and Zura had been in a frisky mood.

Which was a dumb way of saying “horny”, dumb and silly and old-fashioned; but that just made it perfect for Zura, didn’t it? 

After they’d exchanged greetings and insults, Zura had put his arms into his sleeves and nodded shortly in that wordless ‘follow me’ beckoning way which meant this and nothing else. On a good day that might have put Gintoki’s nose up, so even if he did go along he’d kick up a fuss about it; on a bad day he’d have turned and walked away from the start. But on this in-between day he just shrugged and followed silently. The walk took them to an area by the harbour, past empty-looking storehouses and boarded-up houses until it ended in front of a small house, little more than a shed.

On the walk there he’d been unsurprised to feel a growing arousal, a heat in chest and guts and increasingly in crotch as well. He put his head to the side and hummed a little jingle as Zura fished out a key from his sleeves and fiddled with the padlock on the door, before opening it so they could step into the shed.

The shed had no electricity and must be cold as fuck in the winter, but it was all right now, in mid-spring. Some daylight streaked in through the boards across the windows, and then Zura lit a kerosene lantern while Gintoki took his boots off. There was hardly any furniture, either, so it was likely just a temporary hideout and not Zura’s new place to stay, not that it was always easy to draw a sharp line between those two things. But there were no tell-tale videogames or haircare products anywhere, let alone even the most rundown TV.

“Man, what a dump,” he drawled, taking a few steps further into the shed. “Barely worth taking my shoes off.” 

Zura stepped closer with a frown. “We’re not _barbarians_.” He put one hand on Gintoki’s shoulder, the other at the back of his head and started to kiss him. Gintoki kissed back, opening his lips, grabbing Zura by sleeve and shoulder; then let himself be nudged backwards in small steps, the short bit to the nearest wall.

Zura tugged Gintoki’s yukata off and broke off the kiss only to start kissing on the underside of his jaw and then on his neck instead, opening the zipper on Gintoki’s shirt to get at the bare skin underneath, causing Gintoki to shiver, just a little. “I do wish you would start wearing socks,” he muttered.

“Shut up,” said Gintoki in a low voice, leaning back towards the wall but pulling Zura with him, helping him take off his haori. He was beginning to feel there was something he ought to pay attention to. He also didn’t really want to: this was as good as he would be able to get. “It’s my character design, can’t change that. I wish you would go-” he paused, breathing in through his teeth and closing his eyes as Zura drew his nails up and down his stomach, his other hand digging through Gintoki’s hair, “-go cut your dumb hair off.” He drew a hand through that smooth silky hair, not meaning it for an instant.

He told his stupid brain to stop noticing things he didn’t want to think about and to just let him enjoy the damn moment. It wasn’t all that often he could get this, after all, hands and legs and mouth and skin, cock and ass and tongue; reliable, steady warmth and eagerness, a body he knew so well pressed up to his. There was no point in questioning it, and nor was there any point in poking or complaining in a way that wasn't part of the usual bickering. Anything more than that, anything more earnest… that just wasn’t a good idea. It ran the risk of leading to serious talk about feelings and that kind of thing. Gintoki wasn't even sure of what his own feelings were – didn’t want to be sure – let alone ready to be honest about them out loud. 

But that same stupid brain now persisted in pointing out to him that it felt like Katsura was being so -- well -- business-like about the whole thing. Not actually fake, not like he didn't want it himself... but still almost as if he'd been thinking, "oh no, I haven't gotten Gintoki off yet this week or month, time to strike that off my to-do list", before setting out to see if he could find him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d got that impression, either. Even when Gintoki was the one to send the first half-lidded look signalling interest, Zura was usually the one to take action to get them alone, these days.

And, well. That made it so easy for Gintoki, didn’t it? He just either had to shove Zura away if he wasn’t in the mood or, more rarely, genuinely didn’t have time even for a quickie. Or else he could simply accept it, feel flattered and get into it, following his natural inclination to have Zura do most of the work but reciprocating enough not to feel totally selfish (and because Zura being turned on was, to be honest, pretty damn hot).

Almost as if Zura had planned it all that way, the annoying bastard. But Gintoki was supposed to be a relief for Zura’s duties, wasn't he? At least, he'd thought of himself like that, but that might have been a one-sided assumption. Maybe he’d just been adding to them instead.

* * *

* * *

_There’s that look in his eyes again,_ thought Katsura, pulling Gintoki down with him on the futon, both of them down to their underwear by now. He was glad he’d thought of putting a futon here in the hideout, earlier. They would have still made do without one, of course; but when they had spare time and a private place to spend it, it was rather nice to have a little bit of comfort, too. 

He tugged Gintoki closer for another deep kiss, entangling his legs with his own, one hand burrowing in his hair. _Stay with me. Let me be selfish. Let me do this for you._

He tried to keep his other thoughts at bay, gently shutting the doors in his mind, the compartments he would have to sort through later. Telling himself to forget about the state of the hideout, the deserted street outside, what to say at tonight’s meeting and where to hold it, the next episode of his favourite TV drama, how grumpy Elizabeth had been this morning, the newest ordinances from the government, the drop in recruitment in the last month or so… That was outside, all of it. Here there were just the two of them. Only the thin slivers of sunlight were allowed to come in, and the smell of the city in spring.

Gintoki had closed his eyes for the moment; Katsura stroke his back, slowing down his movements, but also making them firmer, trying to put more warmth into them. It wasn’t the first time Gintoki had got that gaze in his half-lidded eyes that seemed more far away than usual, a look Katsura wasn’t sure how to read. It might say, _he's not doing this right (but I don't want to explain why)_, or, _he_ is _doing this right, but I'm not sure I should be doing this at all_; or worse, perhaps: _he's doing this right but I'd still rather be with someone else, if I could_. 

Moments like that couldn’t help but make Katsura more careful, trying harder to be attentive, to slow down a bit. Picking up cues from Gintoki’s body language and actions when his face didn’t convey much, let alone his words. 

But then again, what else was new? he reflected while nibbling gently on Gintoki’s jawline, one hand down inside his strawberry-patterned boxer shorts. Everyone who knew Gintoki at all would know to do that, one way or the other. Look at his actions, not his face. That fact didn't make him any less precious, nor any less a source of strength -- to Katsura, as to so many.

* * *

* * *

It happened at times that Gintoki took on a job all by himself without help from Kagura and Shinpachi. It could be because the gig was a brief one which was offered on the spot while he was out on town, from an impatient client who wanted something done right then and there. Since Odd Jobs Gin-chan still didn’t have mobile phones, he couldn’t ask for the others to come help him, on such occasions.

But there were also some jobs he preferred to keep entirely to himself, stuff he didn’t want the others to get involved with. There were fewer of those gigs now than there once had been, but every once in a while he agreed to one.

He came back from a job like that feeling worn out, tired and hungry, and rather off-balance and mopey to boot in spite of the new money in his pocket. It was still early in the afternoon and the sun had just come out after hours of overcast weather. He crossed a public square and wondered if he should sit down for a few minutes to get his bearings, or press on and get something to eat first. 

Then he saw something big, white and familiar in the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Elizabeth and Zura a fair bit away in front of a statue; Zura was talking to his companion and Elizabeth was holding a sign saying “SURELY NOT”. Zura was dressed in some kind of ridiculous get-up with a top hat and a black cape. Was he going to try doing street magic, or what? Gintoki thought of going over there to whap him in the head for being ridiculous. Some nice normal squabbling with Zura could be just what he needed right now. 

But then his stomach was growling and he decided food came first after all, especially since he wasn’t far from his favourite eatery. 

Once he reached it, however, he decided to sit at a table instead of the usual counter, for no particular reason except he still felt out of balance. He ordered a bowl of sweet beans and rice just like usual, though, and had started to tuck into it when a familiar voice reached his ears from over by the counter. Moments later, Zura sat down in front of Gintoki with a self-satisfied smile and a bowl of soba. 

Up this close, Gintoki saw that Zura was wearing a fake moustache as well as the hat and the cape. Also a white shirt, a white tie, and pressed black trousers. 

He gave him the blank heavy-lidded look this outfit richly deserved. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve seen you wear in a month, and that’s saying something since it’s you.”

“Oh? I think I look rather dashing,” said Zura, slurping on his soba, then pausing to blow on it first.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t one of your hangouts.” Gintoki looked over at the entrance and the counter warily.

Zura followed his gaze and wiped his mouth before continuing, “Don’t worry, I know Hijikata comes here a lot. But he’s most likely busy right now. And if I’m wrong, that’s what this disguise is for!”

“Seriously? He’ll just ask you to produce pigeons from your hat or something.”

“Ho ho ho! I have practiced for such an eventuality.”

“Don’t splatter your soba, asshole.” Gintoki picked his nose. “You just wanted to ambush me here, didn’t you.”

Zura made a tiny shrugging movement and took another mouthful of soba, then started to dig through his sleeves. “Here you go,” he said after he’d swallowed, handing over something small to Gintoki. “You forgot this the last time.” It was a packet of condoms.

Gintoki snatched it and put it in his pocket hurriedly, cheeks a little red, then stared down into his food and focused on chewing. 

Handing back a package of condoms like that, when he could just have kept it himself until next time, at least. Seriously, who even did that? Was it supposed to be some kind of passive-aggressive message, as in “You’re welcome to sleep around if you like, but I have no need for it”? Or was he just being stupidly nice? Not that Zura couldn’t have moments of niceness like that, but when it came to material things he was usually as much of a cheapskate as Gintoki, except when he tried bribery with parfaits…

And it came down again to what he’d noticed that time in the shed, or thought he’d noticed: and which he ever since had had a hard time _not_ seeing traces of. That dutifulness in his behaviour, the way he seemed to put more priorities in Gintoki’s wants than his own… Not to say that Zura didn’t ever grumble, he did plenty of complaining, part of their usual bickering… but there was just this underlying feeling that Gintoki couldn’t shake. He wished now that he’d never started noticing it.

He let his head slide down to rest on his arms on the table. "Man, why do you have to be so... so... so damn supporting-character about all of this?" he groaned, keeping his voice down a little more than usual.

"I prefer the term secondary character," said Zura primly, or as primly as he could in between munching on his soba.

"Henhh? What's the difference?"

Zura huffed. "Secondary is more important. What has that got to do with it, anyway? You're not making sense, you useless protagonist." 

A quick movement, and Gintoki brought up his chopsticks just in time to catch the noodle Zura had just flicked at him before it hit his face, slurping it down. 

"Don't waste food," he grumbled. He felt the urge to deny that Zura could claim any term tied to importance, as he normally would have. But since that would go against the point he was vaguely gesturing towards, he grudgingly repressed it. Which annoyed him. With a low groan of you-are-so-impossible, he sat up again and went back to eating his food.

He wasn’t sure how to continue talking about it. Or if he even should. Zura wasn’t prodding him, though, but kept fairly quiet for once, only pausing for eating in order to fish out his fake moustache after it fell into the bowl. Maybe Gintoki could actually just… let it be? Maybe it would be enough to just drop that vague hint into the immeasurably mysterious thick sludgy soup known to the world as Zura’s Brain and let it simmer there, in the hope that when all the right stars were aligned the idiot would be able to put two and two together. Miracles were known to happen.

"Hmph." Zura stood up after they’d both finished and paid, adjusting his moustache once more, and putting on his new disguise hat with a flourish. "If you're going to be like that, you might as well accompany me to a flea market over by that way. We might find some bargains, with luck."

“Eugh. You’re _such_ a housewife.” Gintoki followed him outside and fell in step with him on the street, right hand resting in his kimono. "Don't you know that those things are a sham put on by the universe? You just wind up picking up things that _look_ useful, and a year later you're the one sitting on a blanket trying to sell those same damn things cheap to some new sucker. It's the evil circle of flea markets. And that hat looks so dumb, take it off!" He reached over to smack the hat off Zura's head.

"Nonsense, Gintoki," said Zura, ducking smoothly. "Flea markets are places of romance and wonder! They have a mysterious and alluring charm all their own, as objects that have long lingered in obscurity are allowed to meet sunlight again, and discovered by passers-by who see something new in them and bring them home into a place where they're appreciated and useful! It's very heart-warming, in fact. Also, I need a new kettle at home since the last one broke."

“You’re just a sucker.” Then again, maybe if he found something super cheap that Otose would like she might bug him a little less for the late rent. Or he could actually find something less than useful but fun, like some old Jump issue he’d never seen. Gintoki picked his ear and, grumbling, followed along.

The flea market did indeed include a number of household objects but as usual failed to deliver wonderful quality to extremely low prices. There were no fun manga of the Jump kind, only a few shady-looking dôjinshi which you weren’t allowed to browse through, had no tits on the cover, and didn’t feature any series Gintoki cared about in the first place. Of course, this was still a Kabuki District flea market, so it also had things you might not normally expect, like a collection of dildoes and a number of whips, leather collars, and handcuffs.

He amused himself with holding up some of those, especially the dildoes, and comment on them loudly so Zura would get flustered. Zura reddened and looked away, telling Gintoki to stop being an idiot, but didn’t look as scandalised as Gintoki had hoped. The next moment, Zura was dangling two pairs of cooking chopsticks in front of Gintoki, asking him which pair he liked the best.

“That one,” said Gintoki, “the other pair looks too good for you, you should buy those for me instead. I’m the better cook.” It was true. Zura’s range in cooking was better than Kagura’s, but still fairly narrow, and his meals tended to taste bland.

Zura gave him an annoyed look. “You’re ruining it. I was going to say ‘then I’ll pick the other one’, implying that your taste is lousy, but now you’ve already said the pair I shouldn’t pick is the better one, so if I’m picking that one I’m validating your taste and if I’m picking the other one I’m still doing what you told me, and so now the routine doesn’t work, and I have no idea which to pick and you know Elizabeth does most of the cooking anyway… Ow.”

Gintoki took his fist away from Zura’s head. “Get a grip, idiot. Weren’t you going to buy a kettle?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t as cheap as I wanted, so I did some haggling, and she said I could get one pair of cooking chopsticks thrown in, only she had two of them. Gintoki, why are you being so unhelpful? This would be such a cute little surprise present for Elizabeth!” He prattled on and finally picked one pair, turning a deaf ear as Gintoki quite truthfully remarked that nobody in the cosmos ever, not even weird alien abominations like Elizabeth, would be happy to get cooking utensils as a present if they hadn’t expressed an actual wish for them. 

"Anyway,” Zura suddenly said a few minutes later, after they’d left the flea market. “If a main character is lazy and irresponsible, it's only natural for secondary characters to step up and shoulder the responsibility. Especially if the main character nevertheless keeps taking on heavy burdens. Wouldn't you say?"

Gintoki said nothing, shooting Zura an impassive look as they walked, while wrestling with the urge to slam him into the pavement. Only he couldn't think of a reason for it that wouldn't sound like a dumb soap opera. He supposed it was at least a good thing Zura hadn’t just immediately forgotten Gintoki’s words, but he still had to fight to keep his teeth from gnashing. _Idiot. That's not it. And aren't you taking on enough responsibilities already? Try to get when someone's trying to tell you something, jerk_.

He couldn’t say anything more than he’d already done. He _couldn’t_. He didn’t have the right or ability to follow up like he should, if he said more. 

He’d simply have to hope that Zura got it on his own.

* * *

* * *

The distantness in Gintoki’s eyes seemed to be there more often than before, Katsura noted with growing concern; and it was starting to be joined by a kind of discontent that Katsura would like to place squarely as everyday grumbling, but which he suspected was something more enduring than that.

"Is – ahh – is anything the matter?" he asked him outright one day, pulling back from him slightly in the restroom stall that they shouldn't both be in, feeling hot and sweaty. It was tawdry, but it wasn't often that they had the time and space and safety for not-tawdry. At least this was a bigger stall than most.

Gintoki shook his head, and when Katsura gave him a weighing look, opening his mouth intending to ask if he was sure, he reached out to pull Katsura back in with one hand at the back of Katsura's neck, kissing him deeply. The fact that he didn’t even try to counter with an insult, or complain about having had a lousy day, only confirmed to Katsura that something was indeed the matter.  
But then he moved them around so now Katsura was the one pressed against the wall, Gintoki's mouth working down his jaw, then his neck, kissing and lightly biting and being very nicely distracting; and Katsura leaned his head back and roamed his hands over Gintoki’s back, allowing himself to be distracted.

_He'll talk when he's ready too; he's always good at complaining_, he tried to tell himself. The truth was that Gintoki only ever complained about the small things. But he didn’t know what else to do with a stubborn idiot like this one.


	2. Dango And Riceballs

The battle of the Four Devas of Kabuki-Cho was over. 

After the three of them had taken care of Kada a final time and tied things up with Pirako, Odd Jobs Gin-chan all went back into the hospital to nap in the lobby, knowing that Otose was well-attended in her bed upstairs. Gintoki should probably have been in a hospital bed, too, but the nurses at the reception desk were severely overwhelmed with all the unruly guests and patients that were running around and he didn’t have the energy to make any kind of fuss right now. So he nodded off in a soft chair with Kagura’s head on his shoulder on one side and Shinpachi softly snoring in his ear in another.

He kept drifting in and out of sleep, but still felt relatively rested when he woke up around in the early morning out of a need to pee. The grey morning light filtered in from the windows and the lobby was quieter now, as bleary-eyed nurses and other staff talked in low tones to each other over cups of coffee.

Business done, he stepped outside wanting some fresh air before going back and trying for some more sleep. It was chilly outside, the streetlights still shining, hardly anyone out and about.

“Gintoki.” 

He turned his head to see Katsura walking towards him from the shadows, moving quickly but stiffly. One arm was in a sling, and there were bandages around his neck and shoulders.

“The hell? You’re staking out the place?” he asked, because it seemed way too much of a coincidence that Zura would arrive just as Gintoki was taking some air.

“Well…” Zura shrugged. “I was over at your place just now. Didn’t look too good.” He coughed theatrically, looking somewhat awkward. “Ah… I understand you have been through some trouble.” 

Gintoki was too tired to get worked up over that dumb understatement, but he didn’t feel like going into any long explanations either. “Gang war,” he said simply. “Old bat was hurt, she’s in here now.” He thumbed at the hospital building behind him. “She’s getting better.”

“I have heard the bare bones of it,” said Zura, putting his hands into his sleeves. His face was hard to see clearly in the grey light; he wasn’t standing close to any streetlight. “Jirocho’s daughter turned up, stirring up trouble, but Kada was pulling the threads all along, and turned out to have ties to the Harusame. Is that right?”

Gintoki nodded, his head feeling heavy. “Not just ties, either,” he said. “She was a damn captain in it all along. Where have you been?”

Zura sighed. “I was in Nara, and so were the Shinsengumi. I suppose it hasn’t been talked about in Edo yet; I know the media is not allowed to mention it. There’s been a top secret meeting in Nara between the shogun and a high-ranked Amanto from the planet Carasha. A prince of some kind.” 

Oh. So that had been where everyone else was. 

“I was wondering a little why the police was even more useless than usual,” said Gintoki, letting out a huge yawn. Not that either the Shinsengumi or the regular police would usually show up much for gang wars, but with stuff like Otose being attacked and Saigo’s son being kidnapped, he thought they would have poked their nose into things.

“I also saw several members of the former Oniwabanshu there,” said Zura. “Sachan-san and others. Matsudaira must have hired them for extra security. And the Yagyu Clan were present, too.”

Gintoki wandered over to a bench and sat down on it, too tired to keep standing. “A real hotshot, that Amanto bigwig, huh? Were you gunning for him?”

Zura followed him, but stood beside the bench instead of sitting down. Without looking up at him, Gintoki could hear the frown on his face as he replied, “Not hardly. That would throw things in too much chaos. He had ties to the Tendôshû: if he’d been assassinated here it could have triggered a new war. No, I tagged along trying to keep unruly Jôishishi factions to stay out of it.” A moment later, however, he added, “I would only have intervened like that if events made it necessary. To him _or_ to the shogun. I also didn’t want the police to get away with arresting the wrong party, if anything happened.” 

Gintoki picked his nose. “My, how very responsible of you,” he drawled, though he probably sounded a little too tired for the sarcasm to come through clearly. He cast another look at Zura’s hurt arm, but only remarked, “Timing seems a bit suspicious.”

“Indeed. We eventually found out he, too, is connected to the Harusame,” said Zura, crossing his arms and looking off into the distance. “So he was clearly in collusion with Kada to draw troops and attention away from Edo and Kabuki District.”

“Yeah, and it’s a typical plot thing, too,” Gintoki pointed out. “Cutting down on the amount of players because the mangaka can’t be bothered to keep track of everyone.” 

Zura sighed. “I’m sure you’re right, but you know it’s much harder to see through the fourth wall properly whenever things get more serious. Anyway… there were a few altercations, both by our own hotheads and the government dogs acting on faulty information, but nothing too serious. Then yesterday some people made a serious attempt at the prince’s life, but the culprits were Amanto as well – from his home planet, even. They’re the ones who exposed his Harusame connections, although that was hushed up immediately by the officials… As far as I can tell, the shogun wasn’t too inclined to sign a trade deal with him after that, though he kept it diplomatic. I heard the document they signed just spoke about continued respect and co-operation without actually promising anything concrete.”

“Right, whatever.” Gintoki made a bored gesture to signal he had no interest in politics. He drummed his fingers on the bench. Wanting Zura to come closer on the one hand, being fine with him right where he was on the other. “Were you trampled by a pack of feral cats you wanted to pet on the way back or something?”

Zura blinked. “How did you know?? Well, they were pumas, not cats, and they belonged to Prince Hata, but still-! Remarkable prescience, Gintoki! You could monetize that!” 

Gintoki groaned. “I was kidding! Man, you could at least do the decency to _pretend_ to be hit by something cooler.”

“An injury is an injury no matter how it happens,” said Zura in his annoying lecturing tone. “It is always a ‘pain in the butt’, as the kids say.” Then he said tactlessly, “You look like you’ve been inside a collapsing building with knives built into the ceiling.”

“Oi! I’m fine! I got here on my own two feet, didn’t I?” He waved to indicate the distance between the hospital entrance and the bench, but didn’t smack the bench or Zura in order to spare his hand. “Asshole,” he added sourly.

Zura finally sat down beside him. He fussed a little with his sling and bandages, then settled and asked, “How are Leader and Shinpachi-kun?”

Gintoki shrugged. “Fine. Sleeping like logs in the lobby.” He waved again towards the hospital behind them. 

A smile tugged at his lips. “Those brats were so damn pushy this time around,” he said. “They just…” He breathed in deeply, breathed out, looking out into the grey street without noticing it. He remembered Shinpachi punching him, screaming at him; remembered Kagura crying that without him, life just wouldn’t be any fun. And he recalled how good it had felt later on, to step aside and let those two deal with Saigo and Pirako, to tell Saigo, “I’d rather disappoint you than them”, the pride he’d felt and the knowledge it was the right thing to do after all.

“Just what?” Zura said, prodding him.

Gintoki let his face look expressionless again. “Just wouldn’t take no for an answer…” he said. “Guess I’m getting old. Spoiling them like that.”

He exhaled again. Somehow even saying this much to Zura felt like making a concession or an admission. Even though he couldn’t remember having argued over the same kind of thing with him. If anything, Zura tended to play up Gintoki’s abilities, didn’t he? But…

There was in fact a smile on Zura’s face for a moment, as Gintoki looked over at him. Then his face took on a serious expression again. His uninjured hand had been resting in his lap, but now he reached out and took Gintoki by the hand very lightly, not squeezing. Gintoki frowned at him but didn’t shake him off. 

“You fought to defend your home and you won,” Zura said in a low, warm voice. “That must feel good.”

“Winning is nice,” agreed Gintoki. “Not overrated.” He looked at Zura’s cheek and ear, struggling with an impulse to lean over and kiss him, just a small peck… 

But he kept it down. Even with nobody looking at them right now, this still felt way too much in the open. 

Instead he mumbled he should get back, and they both struggled a little to stand up and did their best to hide it. They leaned on one another for part of the short journey back; then the shadows parted once more and a glasses ninja hobbled at him in a kind of fractured attempt at a leap. 

“Gin-saaaan!!” yelled Sachan. She looked fairly beat up, too, bandages on arms and left ankle. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here while you suffered and bled! You look so cool like this!!” She rubbed her face against his chest vigorously. “Will you be all right? Do you want me to nurse you? Do you want me to feed you? Feed you on my body perhaps??” 

Before Gintoki could pry her off, Kyubei appeared and yanked Sachan back. “Stop that. You’re just going to hurt yourself and him too. Gintoki! I apologize for not being here in Tae-chan’s hour of need. If you’ve allowed a hair on her head to be hurt, I will first skin you alive, and then commit seppuku.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Gintoki, noticing without too much surprise Zura was no longer anywhere to be seen. “She’s fine, she was up visiting the old bat at the hospital last time I saw her. Probably went home by now.” Sachan subsided, leaning on Kyubei, who took the burden easily; Gintoki got the feeling they’d been walking like that for a while. “You guys had fun in Nara?”

“You heard of it?” said Kyubei, surprised. “I would much rather have been here by Tae-chan’s side.” Which wasn’t much of an answer since that was pretty much always the case, as far as Gintoki knew. 

Sachan groaned dramatically. “Aughhh! So much diplomatic crap, it was such a pain! And not in a fun way! We ninjas take on whatever dirty job we need to do, but if I’d known that you would go through all this danger, I would have turned it down. Anything for you, my Gin-saaan… ouch.” She reached out for him, but then froze and pulled back, her face twitching with pain.

“Sarutobi, you’re the one who needs to get checked in,” said Kyubei, as they entered the hospital together, “For your brain, at least.” 

Kagura was still sleeping, curled up against Sadaharu, but Shinpachi was sitting up with a cup of tea, waving at them drowsily. Gintoki trudged back and sank down again, a gigantic yawn overtaking him. Moments later, he was asleep.

* * *

* * *

How long had it been like this? wondered Katsura. Didn’t it go all the way back to that time at the eatery, right before the flea market? There had been a good number of chapters and arcs since then, with plenty of events and gags; but Gintoki still kept up this mysterious behaviour when they were alone.

He had tried his best to ignore it; then he’d tried to wait out an answer, followed by trying to tease information out of Gintoki; and finally went back to ignoring it. But Gintoki just seemed determined to keep it up regardless of what Katsura did. He would drop occasional cryptic hints he then refused to follow up on, he’d send askance looks of discontent less sharp but also more enduring than the usual surface annoyance… 

Yet he didn’t actually pull away and turned down Katsura’s company in general, either (not actively enough to pay attention to, at least). Nor did he tend to reject their more intimate trysts in particular. In fact he seemed more active than before at those occasions, his hands and mouth more insistent and less lazy, even as his face looked grumpier. It was all fairly puzzling.

They had an unspoken agreement not to delve too much into the deeper things, one that Katsura probably skirted closer to breaking at times than Gintoki, for all that he had his own rather fabulous evasive manoeuvres. But now Katsura had given Gintoki more than enough time to either get past whatever was bothering him or to bring it up clearly on his own.

Perhaps, Katsura concluded reluctantly to himself, drumming his fingers on the counter as he ate a bowl of soba on a lunch break from today’s part-time work, he should start considering if he was being too selfish about keeping up their secret meetings; if it had come to the point where Gintoki was more humouring him than taking any solace from them. True, he certainly appeared to still enjoy them on some level. But it just might not be enough...

And if he was wrong about that, and Katsura had to admit he hoped he was, then maybe turning things cooler for a while would finally make Gintoki start talking of what the hell was troubling him. Katsura wasn’t entirely sure he truly wanted to know the answer. He felt profoundly uneasy at the thought of Gintoki finding a trait of his unacceptable, especially if it was one Katsura couldn't change. But _someone_ had to be an adult about this.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. _After the next festival,_ he told himself. After that one, he would start to be more distant. But not quite yet.

* * *

* * *

Gintoki dreamt that he sat crouched in a tree branch, the tree full of large dark green leaves that hid him from below, where there was a fence, a garden, and a small house he had never seen before. At the same time he also knew somehow that another Gintoki was down there in that house, sleeping soundly. A Gintoki who lived in that house now. The thought of two Gintokis didn't alarm him, but it did make him think he should try to be quiet.

He saw the door to the house open and Zura step out, holding a broom. Gintoki figured that Zura also lived here, and he got the sense they were at peace in the place, Zura and Other-Gintoki that he couldn’t see. Gintoki felt happy for them. It seemed idyllic.

Then Zura started to sweep the sandy path from the front door to a gate in the fence. He seemed at ease and was humming a tune underneath his breath. The path had been full of footprints and other marks, but under his vigorous sweeps they all vanished, leaving the passage looking blank and featureless except for the new footprints made by Zura now. Gintoki sat still and watched this with a sense of rising unease that he couldn’t explain. 

After all the old footprints had been erased, Zura walked backwards on the path, still sweeping, erasing his own new footprints behind him. As he reached the doorstep, his broom touched his sandalled feet, his ankles, and the lower hem of his kimono; all of which vanished where the broom had touched them. He serenely kept sweeping while erasing himself from the bottom up. 

Gintoki tried to shout at him, to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he couldn't get any word over his lips. _I have to wake the me that's sleeping in the house_, he thought confusedly, but had no idea how to do that. Finally he decided to launch himself at Zura to stop him, but as he stood up on the branch and stepped closer, a flurry of leaves fell down from the tree, burying Zura in the pile.

A moment later, Gintoki woke up into the dawn-grey room in a cold sweat. The dream's parting thought _well at least that's a little better than to keep sweeping_ lingered in his head as he stumbled to his feet to get something to drink.


	3. Paws And Parfaits

Two days after the defeat of Kintoki Sakata, Katsura found Odd Jobs Gin-chan in a cluttered side-street, putting up posters for some massage parlour or similar while arguing and throwing glue on each other. He put his arms into his sleeves and waited in the shadows for a few minutes, until Leader announced that they’d run out of posters so that meant they were over and done with, right?

“We only ran out of them because you two kept glueing them in weird places where no-one’s ever going to look!” muttered Shinpachi, but not too fervently. He seemed ready to go home, too.

“At least I didn’t stop to prioritise an Otsu poster above the client’s!” retorted Kagura.

“You just don’t understand advertising, Pachi-Boy,” said Gintoki, “you can’t be too modest in this business…”

Katsura cleared his throat, and when nobody reacted, he stepped up and took the dripping brush of glue away from Gintoki. “You seem to be finished with work for today,” he said.

“What are you doing here, Zura?” asked Leader, jumping down from the low roof where she’d glued the last poster.

“Just passing through,” said Katsura, putting the brush in the glue bucket that Shinpachi was holding. “Gintoki. Can I talk to you?” 

Gintoki gave him a flat look, then turned his head, yawned and stretched, scratching his stomach. “I’m going to the nearest pachinko hall,” he announced.

“Oh no, you’re not!” exclaimed Shinpachi.

“Give us our pay first!” roared Leader.

They ganged up on him and Katsura did his part by pushing Gintoki from behind, blocking his escape. “Fine, fine, FINE!” he grumbled, giving Shinpachi and Kagura a small wad of bills each, then put the remainder in his pocket, looking really put out.

“That had better go to the rent,” said Shinpachi, eyes narrowed. “Don’t let him into the pachinko place, Katsura-san.”

“Yeah, he’ll need that to buy food for Sadaharu!” agreed Leader. Then the two of them were off, apparently content to leaving their leader in Katsura’s care.

“Damn brats,” muttered Gintoki, but didn’t look too upset.

“They seem to be doing fine,” said Katsura. It was encouraging that Shinpachi and Leader weren’t letting Gintoki get away with doing as he pleased out of guilt: if they had, that would surely just have bothered him that much more.

“Now you’ve ruined the rest of my plans for the evening,” said Gintoki. “You’d better make up for it, Zura. Take responsibility by buying me a drink at least, bastard.”

“Tch, I guess I can let you have one drink,” said Katsura. “If you let me pick out the bar. And it’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. 

“Gintoki,” Katsura started, then paused, unsure of how to begin. “I… Are you doing all right?”

“Huh? Me? Sure, I’m fine.” Gintoki picked his nose, looking forward. “Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just because I came back to my home district to find everyone had forgotten me and replaced me with a straight-haired usurper who took over my whole past and my role as main character and then tried to start a whole new manga on top of it? Just because even people who’ve known me since before I grew hair down there were taken in by him and forgot I ever existed? Because the only ones who remembered me were my dog and my robot friend? No, it’s fine, fine.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You can buy me two drinks to apologise. Hold on, make it three.”

Katsura was actually heartened to see Gintoki being pettily bitter. It meant he felt better than if he were just serenely refusing to blame anyone because he didn’t value himself. However…

“You can have one (1) drink,” he said primly. “I’m not made out of money, and your liver isn’t made out of iron.”

“Cheapskate bastard.” Pause. “I can’t believe you just pronounced that parenthesis.”

Katsura waved this aside. “And I have no intention of apologising,” he added.

“No?” Gintoki glanced at him, a hint of surprise in his tone.

What good would apologising do, anyway? Gintoki had surely had enough of it by now. Katsura crossed his arms over his chest. “Obviously that man’s hypnotic powers were ridiculously strong, in effect and in range both. He was even able to affect past volumes of the manga! If anyone should apologise it ought to be Gengai-dono, for building such abilities into a robot in the first place. Can you imagine if the government were to get ahold of something like that? Why, it’s equivalent to the Renho’s weapons!”

Gintoki gave him a half-lidded look. “Then what did you want to talk about that couldn’t wait?”

Katsura exhaled. “I don’t want to apologise, but… I want to… explain.” He lowered his voice. “Gintoki, I’m feeling confused.”

“Nothing new in that. You’re always confused, Zura.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.” He did his best to collect his thoughts. “It’s already getting hazy in my mind, and it’s confusing trying to remember remembering fake memories… That is to say…” He took a deep breath. “The man I remembered, the boy I remembered when I was under that hypnotic influence… up until a few weeks ago, he acted just like you, he spoke just like you, he did all the things I remember you doing… only he had straight blond hair and blue eyes. In everything else, he… he _was_ you, effectively.” They rounded a corner and left Kabuki-chô proper, as the bar Katsura had in mind was a few blocks further away. “Up until the point where he started to change, becoming more upstanding and productive, a more conscientious person. Foolishly, I didn’t realise this indicated something was wrong. I thought you – him – had just received an uncommon burst of energy and confidence in yourself. I was happy for you, but I was also fairly busy with Jôi activities and working so I could eat.”

Gintoki sighed, arm resting in his yukata. “I know all that already, Zura. Tama explained it at the time.”

“She is very perceptive. But she could only observe it from the outside, not…” He rubbed his forehead. Maybe he shouldn’t bring up the other part right now, out in the open like this. “Oh, and another thing,” he said instead, disapproval sneaking into his voice. “I heard you’ve been mixing it up with the police again. A conflict between the Shinsengumi and that new Mimawarigumi lot.”

“Henhhh? I _guess_,” said Gintoki in an obnoxious tone, giving him a look as if Katsura was being impossible. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“The Shinsengumi didn’t have any problems remembering you, right?”

Gintoki shook his head. “Nah, they were outside Kintoki’s hypnotic range.” 

“I figured.” Katsura sighed. “So were some of our spies and observers. But our current headquarters was inside it, so when the spies came back to report in, they got confused over one issue, and the rest of us were more confused, listening to them. They said there had been a rônin with a white perm among the Check It Out faction, who turned on them to help free their Shinsengumi hostage, but who also spoke up for their lives to be spared. And that he claimed to be the White Yaksha.”

Gintoki picked his nose and didn’t say anything.

“Only, when we listened to that report,” said Katsura, “I had no idea who the White Yaksha was supposed to be. I only knew of the Golden Yaksha. And even our sources started to forget the White Yaksha while they reported in, so they were confused by their own accounts. Still, it did tickle my mind, and I meant to bring it up to Kintoki, just to hear what he thought… But I kept forgetting to.” He frowned, wondering now if that forgetfulness was due to Kintoki’s powers, too. “But anyway,” he finished, looking at Gintoki, “I’m glad you did stand up for the lives of those men, at least.”

Gintoki shrugged. “Nobody else was going to speak for them. Nobody else cared. So I had to.”

Katsura nodded. “The Check It Out faction has gone bad, now; but it didn’t have to happen. Its first leaders were put in prison for minor infractions that were judged subversive, and the new leader was unworthy, a man of small goals, few scruples, and long grudges. One of those cases where the right man at the right time could have made a difference.”

He stopped and parted the curtains of a bar with decent prices where you could sit and talk in relative privacy. He paid for a bottle of sake and brought it and two cups to the table in the corner where Gintoki had flopped down. Katsura thought it a promising sign that Gintoki hadn’t sat down by the counter, since that would have inhibited certain conversations.

Katsura poured sake for Gintoki and held his cup to be poured into, then took a drink, and continued in a low voice.

“Those fake memories, even as they’ve started to fade now… they are still. Disturbing. You see, he didn’t… His hypnosis was complete, Gintoki. It didn’t remove a single memory, it just overwrote them with straight blond hair over a dirty silver perm. So…” Colour had started to rise into his cheeks now, not just from the alcohol. “So… even certain more private moments, they still…”

“You mean, you thought you’d jumped boots with the Golden Boy,” said Gintoki curtly. 

Katsura paused. “For some reason I thought you’d use ‘fucked’ and it would be beeped out,” he remarked.

“Nah, this isn’t a beeping scene.” Gintoki drained his cup, then held it out to be refilled. “Well? Did you?”

“I very much did not!!” 

Gintoki nodded. “I figured,” he said, “though one never knows with you. He had a screw for a dick, you know. Probably wouldn’t be very fun. Did you make out with him, then?”

“N-no!” Katsura flushed. “I didn’t! I- I never…” His voice sank down, muttering, “There wasn’t any opportunity for something like that to happen…” under his breath.

“Ah, but you wanted to!” exclaimed Gintoki. “You flirted with him! Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

Katsura buried his face into his hands. “I thought he was you!!” he moaned. “And I was subtle, anyway! He probably didn’t understand my meaning!”

“Really.” Gintoki’s voice was extremely dry. 

“Yes, really!”

Gintoki picked his nose. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe you’re right. If he’d understood you, he’d probably have said something to me about it later, trying to get a reaction.” 

That was at least a comforting thought. The whole thing was mortifying enough as it was. “Anyway…!” continued Katsura. “Whether he understood me or not, in any case I didn’t actually do anything with him. Luckily. But I still ‘remembered’ I’d done so. And…” He coughed, changed his seating, glancing behind him before going on in a lower voice, “And I’m glad all the fake memories are fading, but… I wish it would happen faster. So.” 

He put his hands in his lap, trying to look composed. “So I would… I would appreciate some assistance to that purpose. To dispell those fake memories more quickly. If you’re free the rest of the evening.”

Silence.

Katsura stared down at the grainy wood of the table, his face even hotter than before, his nose stinging from the alcohol even though he’d drunk so little of it. Suddenly he regretted this whole endeavour. What had he been thinking? What kind of way was this to proposition anyone? Gintoki had gone through enough these past few days – this was Katsura’s problem. It wasn’t fair to bring him into it.

He took another drink and put the cup down abruptly, muttering, “I – Never mind. I shouldn’t bother you with this. I can deal with it on my own. It will be fine.” 

“Huuh?” Gintoki turned his head with a confused look. “What do you mean? Bit late to say that now, isn’t it? That cherry is long since popped.” 

“But– It’s my problem, so—” He rose from his seat, but Gintoki snagged his sleeve and pulled it downwards. 

“Sit down, idiot,” he said. 

“But you shouldn’t have to—”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Zura!” Gintoki said, hushed but exasperated. “I can want it too, right? Don’t act like I’d be doing some dreadful chore. You’re a pain but you’re not _that_ ugly.” He drained his cup and put it down on the table. “Besides, it’s been a while since the last time, anyway…” he mumbled, and now he was the one looking down at the table.

So it had, and there was a reason for that, but Katsura wasn’t about to try to explain that. He settled down. Gintoki looked absurdly attractive right now, a faint pink hue to his cheeks and an adorably sulky expression – although Katsura supposed that in his own jumbled state of mind he might not be the most objective judge. His hands all but twitched, wanting to touch that face, and more. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” he said slowly, his voice still hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I’ve managed to save up enough for a cheap hotel room.”

Now Gintoki was smirking. “Hooo? Splurging, are you? Man, you must really want to scrub your brain free of gold.” Katsura half expected him to add something on the lines of 'you can’t resist Gin-san’s fine body', but Gintoki didn’t go that far. Maybe because they were in public.

He hauled out his telephone and handed it over to Gintoki. “You should let Leader know you’ll be coming home late.”

* * *

The best thing you could say about the hotel room was that it wasn’t the absolutely cheapest and shabbiest one possible, which hopefully meant it would at least be free of lice. There was nothing remotely charming about its dull brown-orange colours, nor about its decoration that seemed to combine the worst of Amanto and Western style in a threadbare way entirely bereft of the elegance sparseness could have. Too much and too little all at once; the best to do was try to ignore it.

Gintoki, standing there a little awkwardly, looked both utterly ordinary and out of place, larger than life, as if the charmless room simply molded itself around him. Strange, how he both blended in and stood out from his surroundings at the same time, a singular charisma in conflict with his casual acceptance of all things that were rundown and shabby.

Katsura stopped his mind from running on any further in vain comparisons and analyses by pulling Gintoki close with both hands encircling his face, then giving him a long kiss. 

His own hesitation started to retreat as his senses put him in the here and now, and he could feel Gintoki respond, also a little awkwardly but not, it seemed, unwillingly; his hands encircling him, wandering down his back. Katsura in turn responded by leaning closer, kissing Gintoki’s face and neck, breathing him in.

“Oh…” he mumbled. “The smell is the same. He never overwrote the smell…” The fake memories where he had held the golden-haired samurai had still contained the same Gintoki mix of sugar, sweat, and (mysterious, indescribable) safety.

“Seriously? That’s so cheap,” mumbled Gintoki, who was now starting to move, steering them towards the bed.

“Mmm. I suppose olfactory memories might be trickier to influence-” Katsura mumbled back, but now Gintoki was pushing him down on the bed, tugging insistently at his kimono.

“Stop talking about him,” he growled, putting Katsura’s hands on his own obi as if to say, ‘you undo this one, right now’, before quickly tearing off his own sash and then belt, with a slightly clumsy eagerness that was heartening to witness. “I’m the one who’s here.”

Katsura felt clumsy and off-balance himself, not quite knowing where his hands were doing, where they should go; driven to move more quickly than was really needed. _Slow down, slow down_, he told himself; it was nice that Gintoki was so energetic, but Katsura didn’t have to speed ahead out of nervousness. He should make his very best to avoid this becoming a chore for Gintoki, even if Gintoki had just denied it would. 

He muttered to Gintoki to take his shirt off as well after his trousers were down; when Gintoki protested that he didn’t need to, Katsura told him to behave. That he wanted to see and feel as much of Gintoki as possible, for reprogramming purposes.

“You’re way too far gone to be reprogrammed, Zura,” said Gintoki, voice already a little hoarse. “The zura.exe can’t be rebooted, it’s the most corrupted game of them all.”

“It’s not zura.exe, it’s Katsura, and that’s nonsense, I never catch viruses.” 

“You _are_ the virus,” mumbled Gintoki. “Ah… Mm… did you change your shampoo?”

“Ha ha, you noticed!” said Katsura triumphantly, which earned him an annoyed look and a whack on the head. “Yes, to a rosemary-scented one,” he continued brightly. “There was a sale… Hold on, let me get the lube and condoms.”

They ended up going with Gintoki riding him, something they’d rarely done before; when Gintoki was in a mood to bottom, he usually stayed on the literal bottom. Katsura riding him was a lot more usual. Neither of them said it in so many words, but Katsura thought Gintoki probably understood that a less common position was also less tainted by the Kintokified shadow-memories.

Gintoki took a few tries before he could get his angle right, his face sweaty and screwed up with intense focus, Katsura not feeling too relaxed either – Gintoki was so tight right now – doing his best to control his breathing as his heart beat fast and his mind felt hazier by the second. 

Unfortunately, now his thoughts were going right where he’d tried hard to stop them from going. Picturing a similarly muscled, well-toned chest but underneath silky golden hair and pretty, confident blue eyes, open and clear unlike Gintoki’s dead fish eyes… Katsura gritted his teeth and clenched one hand, digging into the sheet. _Be gone, already; you stupid one-arc villain. Your story’s over and done with._ It hadn’t even been Kintoki’s "real" android body in the fake memories; it was really nothing but his head pasted over Gintoki’s, like that time Sachan-san sent out those manipulated wedding photos.

And it had been automatic. That was the truly galling bit. Kintoki was no mind-reader: he could send out, but not receive. He seemed to have had no idea of this particular bit of Katsura’s temporary memories. It was just a side-effect of his big operation, as his hypnotism mindlessly overwrote silver with gold in every head in Kabuki-chô. 

He let out a groan that was half a whine and bent forward, his head on Gintoki’s shoulder, hiding his face. 

“Zura…” mumbled Gintoki. “You don’t have to… You know…” Then he trailed off, perspiration shimmering on his cheek and neck, a dusky look on his face. He sat with his knees up, his feet pressed to Katsura’s buttocks. Katsura’s hand sneaked over to rub Gintoki’s cock some more. 

“Don’t have to what?” he whispered.

“Forget it. Doesn’t matter.” Gintoki kissed his face, holding his shoulder, one hand going through his hair. “I forgot it, too.”

“I want to forget everything,” said Katsura, not knowing where that came from, “except you.” 

“Huhh? Don’t sound like a fucking TV drama, Zura. You don’t mean something that dumb.”

“I suppose not,” admitted Katsura. “But it was a romantic phrase, you should appreciate it, you bastard. Ah…!” Gintoki adjusted his position and leaned his weight on Katsura’s shoulders to raise himself up a bit, then come further down, again and again. “Nggh!”

“That’s… freaking… my line.” But Gintoki looked a fair bit self-satisfied, all the same. In light of the circumstances, Katsura decided he could be allowed some smugness.

But he moved his hands to Gintoki’s butt, now that his cock couldn’t get much harder. “Shall we move up the pace?” 

“You’re going to be the goddamn death of me, wig,” muttered Gintoki, then took a deep breath and threw him a cheeky grin. “Hang on.” 

Katsura closed his eyes, trying again to ward off the unwanted illusionary memories (and behind them, a number of true, bleak memories that should also be warded away from this moment); trying to just stay in this present: silver hair touching his forehead, red eyes gazing on him. He let out a small moan as he bucked to meet Gintoki’s movements with his. 

He heard Gintoki mumble something that might have been ‘I’m out of shape’, but it felt hard to focus right now.

“G-Gintoki… Mo-more…” he breathed out.

Gintoki didn’t say anything smug or even ticked off at that one; he just scrunched his face in concentration and breathed heavily, making obvious efforts to control his breathing, letting out a grunt and a whine. Katsura’s cheeks were hot.

But what he truly meant was, _I want more of you, layer upon layer; I want so much of your tarnished silver that not only will that pathetic artificial fool’s gold melt away entirely, but no future attempt at tampering with my mind will work, either. _

_I want that, but I’m a selfish, greedy coward. I want so much, but what can I offer in return?_ He drew a hand up and down Gintoki’s back, his own breathing strained. A familiar sense of yearning, bittersweet inadequacy returned to him. _All I can give him are a few stolen hours here and there with an outlaw who’s unable to put his sword down, and who can’t find the right words to reach anyone. I want to drown myself in Gintoki, while only offering him the most shallow puddle in recompense._

But at least that too-familiar feeling of falling short had nothing to do with the golden man, he realized dimly; and that thought was like a streak of sunlight shining down through a crack in the storm clouds. The relief of it was palpable. 

He had to swallow a bit to keep himself from tearing up; but the shift in his breathing must have come through for Gintoki anyhow, whose hands were rubbing and stroking his back now, his own breath ragged, shifting position slightly again. _Let this last, let this last, let this last_ ran like a refrain through Katsura's head (but was he truly Katsura right now, or merely Zura?), even though he knew by both of their bodies it would be over soon. He thought confusedly of gaining points in videogames, and wishing this moment was a save-point. _Well, maybe it will be, in a way._ An anchor-point for a true, strong memory, to hold onto in uncertainties to come...

Still, he really couldn’t go on for much longer, so it was a new relief to sense Gintoki’s breath also quickening for the final stretch; they moved together in concert, and Gintoki came after just a few final strokes that Katsura provided, hand trembling by now. A few thrusts later, and he came too.

They leaned on each other for a moment, till Gintoki grumbled wordlessly and Katsura pulled out of him, then pulled off the dirty condom with a sigh. 

“We should clean up,” he said, voice still rough and shaking some. “It’s not fair to leave it to the hotel staff. This isn’t a love hotel.”

“We just used it as one, though. Bet plenty of guests do,” Gintoki pointed out. Katsura felt his gaze on him. He didn’t look up. 

“God, Zura,” Gintoki went on. “You were so damn quiet. I’m so used to you saying the stupidest things when we’re fucking. It was throwing me off.” Then he yawned and got to his feet. “I need a shower, not just tissues.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Katsura admitted, getting up as well. After a few steps, he grabbed Gintoki’s arm, stopping. 

“What?”

“Gintoki. It worked,” he said quietly. The confusing, disturbing spell of those lingering fake memories were gone now, the illusions dispelled and broken up like feathery clouds blown through by strong winds. “The one who was trying to keep you forgotten… now I’ve forgotten him.” He shuffled even closer, swept Gintoki’s hair away from his forehead, and leaned up to kiss him there. _I can do this much, at least._ With a small but genuine smile, he continued, “You’ve won.”

Gintoki’s eyes widened, and he swallowed audibly. Then he reddened and looked away. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said roughly, even though Katsura hadn’t actually thanked him. “Let’s just go take a damn shower, idiot.”

“That’s my line, permheaded imbecile,” said Katsura brightly. 

He tucked the yearning deep inside him again, unable to do anything else with it. For now, this wasn’t too bad.


	4. Moth And Ramen

Gintoki wasn’t yet healed from his injuries from the raid on the palace when he came home to see an extra pair of sandals by the door, and heard the sound of Shinpachi’s voice and another familiar voice from the living room, though no words were audible.

He sighed as he took his time getting his boots off. It seemed all too likely Zura would either scold him for having been far too reckless or sulk because he’d been left out of the fun. Or, knowing him, both.

When he hobbled into the living room he didn’t look too closely at Zura’s impassive expression; focusing on Shinpachi was more telling. The boy looked thoughtful and earnest rather than confused or exasperated, so Gintoki guessed Zura was in a serious mood himself. Unless he’d just arrived and hadn’t had the time to try Shinpachi’s impressive patience yet… No, the tea in his cup was nearly all drunk.

“Oi, Pachi-boy,” said Gintoki lazily, leaning on his crutches, “I thought I’d told you to only let in clients and not any idiot living wigs. I can understand it if you feel bad for him, being a Glasses creature yourself, but Wig creatures are way worse than Glasses ones. They’re truly beyond all hope. Glasses creatures have a brain, after all.”

He sat himself down noisily in the same couch Shinpachi did and spread out, one arm over the back, picking his nose and giving Zura his best rudely unimpressed look.

“Ah… Gin-san," Shinpachi said, "Katsura-san came here to ask…”

“I came here because you stole my conditioner the last time you were at my place,” Zura interrupted haughtily. He took out a bottle from his sleeve. “But you’ve apparently finished it already, so I’m taking your shampoo in recompense. Fair is fair.”

“Oi! What the hell nonsense are you yapping about, I didn’t steal a thing!” Gintoki objected loudly and not very truthfully. “And give that back, you slime! Steal from an invalid, how low can you get? Shinpachi, don’t let him get away with it!”

Shinpachi sighed and drank tea. “I’m not getting into the middle of this,” he said primly.

“Yes yes, you should! Be a man! Stand up for your mentor!!” insisted Gintoki. Zura was getting up now. Already? “Anyway,” Gintoki went on, changing tactics, “even if I _had_ borrowed your lousy conditioner – not that I did – it would only be fair payback for when you didn’t return that video game!”

“I did return it!”

“Yeah, after you’d held onto it three months longer than I said you could! It was practically growing mold by then!”

“Well, excuse me for leading a busy life, it took time to get through it!”

“Because you’re a terrible player!”

“No, because I have less free time than a N.E.E.T like you!”

“Oi oi! There’s only one of us two with steady employment, and it sure ain’t you!”

“I’m going to get started on dinner,” Shinpachi announced suddenly, taking his and Zura’s empty cups of tea and retreated to the kitchen.

“Leaving already, huh?” Gintoki said in a calmer tone after the boy was out of the room.

Zura put his arms into his sleeves. “I have things to do.” He paused, then said, more quietly, “Everything will be different now. The Tendôshû have been defied by their former puppet the Shogun. It may take some time, still, but… Things will start to move for real, soon.”

Gintoki gave him a long look, then leaned back and sighed. “You weren’t talking about shampoo with Shinpachi.”

“I can get answers out of him,” said Zura pointedly. “He’s a kind and helpful young man. Not like some people.” He crossed the room slowly, but didn’t leave the living room just yet: he turned and looked back. “I… I’m not saying I’m changing tactics. There are some things I’m still going to try. But… it all will change, soon. You know that, right?”

“I’m not enough of an idiot not to see that,” Gintoki said, not turning his head. “Or to not realize it’s a miracle I still have my head on my shoulders.” But he wasn’t going to make any excuses, nor tell the whole story of how it came to pass he’d been storming the Shogun’s palace and bringing down the former shogun in order to heed the wish of a dying courtesan. Or explain why there hadn’t been time to get Zura into it. Zura would have heard the main points from Shinpachi by now, anyway.

There was just one thing…

But he didn’t know how to talk about Oboro. Even if it felt like Zura ought to know, to hear that the man was dead now… How should he even explain? They’d never known his name back then. _‘You remember a man of the Tenshôin Naraku from that day, wavy grey hair and a big scar, the one who took Takasugi’s eye…?’_ And with Shinpachi just in the next room over.

No. _No._

He couldn’t.

* * *

Katsura left Odd Jobs, knowing there were things left unsaid again, as there always seemed to be between them. Likely on Gintoki’s part, and certainly on his. Katsura had told him the truth, how the nation was bound to change soon, but he hadn’t talked about all of it.

He’d heard of how, when the Shogun had denounced his uncle and, while refusing to put blame on those who’d toppled Sadasada Tokugawa, still hypothetically mentioned doing so as a possibility – and all those present there, Shinsengumi and Mimawarigumi and palace troops, come to support him, all had turned to point their swords against him demonstratively. It seemed too strange to be real, and Shinpachi hadn’t been able to confirm it, having already left the scene by then; but several other trustworthy sources did.

If it _was_ true… Surely that, in itself, even if nearly everyone present was an avowed enemy of the Jôi, pointed to a new Japan not being such an impossible dream after all.

But how to go on from extraordinary moments like that, shaped by circumstances that wouldn’t arise again in the same way, and find a way to build on them?

There were too many things that said, ‘danger, danger, great disaster and war’, even while right now on the surface it was all back to normal; the opportunities for good that he could scent seemed fragile, hard to catch… and yet, if Gintoki with his small band of comrades had done as much with minimal planning, what could be done if you truly did your best to lay a multitude of plans carefully and diligently?

...And why did Gintoki have to buy such overly sweet-smelling shampoos? 

He shook his head, burying the offending bottle deeper in his sleeve. He wondered if he should have mentioned Sadasada’s assassination. Had Gintoki guessed who was most likely to be behind it? It didn’t seem pin-point enough for most ninja-style assassins. But it had been too clever and effective to be any other random assassins, whether mercenaries or terrorists. That specific combination of efficiency, great daring, and ruthless but intelligent bloodshed all pointed to one man only.

He shivered despite the warm spring day. He couldn’t help but feel a grim satisfaction that that monster, the one who’d ordered the Kansei purge, was finally dead and gone. But that didn’t stop him from sensing again the cold breeze of the high air, the heaving and trembling of an embattled airship, the burning smoke and splattered blood, the otherworldly glow of the awakened Benizakura, and the icy stab of betrayal.

Nor could he stop his mind from going over it, wondering about secret allies, plots and machinations by a man who seemed determined to never be on the same side as him again, to do everything not to ever earn Katsura’s trust again – his, and that of those he cared for.

Things were changing. But he couldn’t see them changing enough to dare to resurrect that old hope again, left bleeding and dying inside him.

* * *

* * *

It was true that Gintoki sometimes missed things that were obvious in retrospect, but once you’d seen them, you couldn’t start to re-miss them. 

Like how Zura evidently felt about Ikumatsu of Hokuto Shinken.

The guy was walking next to him and the kids in the snow, now, leaving that same ramen restaurant behind them. Gintoki put his hands inside his sleeves in the cold air as they trudged through the city in near-silence on this New Year’s Eve, till they got closer to Kabuki and Kagura started to get rowdier, prompting Shinpachi to return in kind.

Ikumatsu, now. She was a fine woman, sensible and strong yet not without softness. She wanted to give Zura some kind of place in her life, clearly liking him enough to start with, yet also ready to smack him around when he was being obnoxious. And maybe it was true that her dead husband still took up the biggest part of her heart, but that didn’t mean Zura didn’t stand a chance. If he would only push a little, make some effort to woo her, then that could change...

She would be so much better for him than Gintoki ever could be. Someone to guide him forward, not drag him down into the past. Zura had his share of scars, too. 

So it was frustrating to see him continuously step back and not do a thing for his own cause. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have helped Ikumatsu deal with her evil former brother-in-law and reunite with her amnesiac homeless father while also courting her, was it? But when he muttered as much to Zura over beers some time after they’d reached Otose's Snack Bar, Zura gave him a blank look and said that the time wasn’t right.

“It would have been too much for Ikumatsu-dono to think of at the moment,” he insisted.

“Tch. You’re just scared of getting rejected. Aren’t you?”

Zura took a drink from his cup silently and didn’t reply for several long seconds. Just when Gintoki was going to poke at him to answer, Zura said in a low voice, expression unexpectedly sober:

“Does it make any difference if I am or not? Either way, that doesn’t change anything about what Ikumatsu-dono is feeling. Her father can’t remember her. Not more than tiny glimpses, at least. That’s doubtless why her husband never revealed who their homeless guest at those New Year’s Eves truly was. But she feels so badly about never realizing the truth until now… If we hadn’t been able to find him, to help him after he saved her from the river, it would be too awful to contemplate. Of course I had to focus on that first and foremost.”

“But you still…”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t - Tch. That’s not - I’d have at least asked for a date in the future. Even if not right now.”

Zura drank up again, not looking at him. 

“Gin-san,” Shinpachi called out. “Kagura’s nearly falling asleep, I’m helping her upstairs before she’s out for good.”

“Not asleep, nuh-uh,” mumbled Kagura. “I can still make it.”

“Make what? You’re just talking in your sleep now,” Shinpachi told her as they left. 

Otose was engaged in talking to a regular over at the bar, Catherine was getting involved in an intense card game at one table, so even with the kids being gone the noise level was high enough to keep a sensitive conversation going in their corner. 

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Zura continued their talk now, still not looking at Gintoki. “And you know that.”

“Stop being so damn knowing!” he burst out. “You’re pissing me off here!”

Zura glared at him. “Oh, I am, am I?” He got up abruptly. “I’m leaving. Happy New Year, Gintoki.” He stalked to the exit on somewhat unsteady legs, nodding politely to Otose as he went past the bar.

Gintoki opened and closed his mouth, intending to get up, then made himself stay put, sulking.

Then, abruptly, he got up anyway before the bastard could get out of sight. Did he really think he was getting out of the conversation so easily? No way! He said to Otose in passing, “Tell Shinpachi I’m going to another bar and might stay there,” then was out the door to hear her ticked-off, “And a Happy New Year to you, too, useless bum!” and slipped out. 

He saw a dark long-haired figure just passing out of the range of a streetlight and then getting harder to see, and hurried after him, anger still churning. Zura ducked down a side-street. To Gintoki’s surprise, he then doubled back until he stopped by the other side of a house Gintoki recognized as facing his own house on the other side. 

In fact, it was the house he remembered that one unobtrusive Shinsengumi guy had stayed at not too long ago while he did an increasingly obvious stake-out of their place and wound up getting a crush on Tama. What was his name again… Yamazaki, right. Anyway, what the hell was Zura doing in a house like that? 

“Stop running after me, Gintoki. I said what I wanted to say,” Zura snapped. 

“You’re not listening, dammit! Stubborn dumbass.” Gintoki hopped from one foot to the other in the cold. “And since when are you staying here, anyway?” 

“Since just the other week. This house is going to be torn down, in case you didn’t know. So the rent is low right now.”

“Ehh, I doubt that will happen. The background assistants and animators won’t stand for having to learn to draw some new building there.”

“Things like that can always be handwaved with a gorilla in charge. But go home, Gintoki. Leader will miss you when she wakes up.”

“She’ll be fine, she’s got Sadaharu and I think Shinpachi is staying the night, too. Stop trying to change the subject! You know I’m right about this and you’re being noble but stupid.”

Zura pursed his lips and didn’t turn his head, just glared ahead at the lock on the door angrily. “That’s rich coming from you!” he snapped. “You’re the king of avoiding the subject! Even when you’re the one who started it!” He threw the door open and strode into the apartment building.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” hissed Gintoki, head hot now and a buzzing but angry feeling in his stomach. But while he was far from sober, he did manage to keep in mind that the walls looked thin and neighbours could be nosy. The house wasn’t too big, but the hall at the entrance floor had four different doors, and a staircase at the end.

Zura shot him a dirty look but said nothing while walking to the farthest door from the entrance, which he unlocked and stepped through. Gintoki closed it behind him. The air was cold and musty in the small apartment. The one window didn't face his own home, but one of the side-streets. 

“Don’t be coy!” Zura went on, then, his tone still sharp and his movements still angry as he took off his shoes and went into a tiny kitchen to put some tea on. “For months and months now, Gintoki, you’ve been sulking about something most of the times we’re together! _Together_ together, I mean! You keep throwing me dirty looks or drop cryptic remarks and when I ask why and what you mean, you refuse to explain! But I’m not a mind-reader!”

“That’s- I don’t- I mean--” Gintoki took a deep breath and swallowed, since his throat was dry, “That’s just because you’re so dense!” he burst out. 

Zura gave him a cold, weighing look, crossing his arms, saying nothing. 

“Well, you are! And tiresome. The way you just…”

“Well? The way I just what?” Something hurt came into Zura’s eyes and he looked away. He said in a smaller, troubled voice, “Gintoki, are you saying you haven’t been enjoying yourself at all?”

“_No_, you idiot,” said Gintoki heavily, sinking down on the room’s only couch and resting his elbow on the table. “That’s not true at all.” He paused. Too late to back out now. He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “I have. But what about you? You just…” He opened his eyes again, going on in a lower tone, “You just swoop in and take care of things.” He swallowed. “It pisses me off. What about your needs, huh? What about your wishes? Shouldn’t bother with a jerk like me. I just can’t… It’s not right. You’ve just been making it too easy for me, Zura. But you need to… think about yourself more.” He heard his own voice turn weaker and thinner at the end, less certain of what it was saying. He knew he was a hypocrite, pushing for something he couldn’t offer.

Zura looked baffled. “Is this what you’ve been trying to say all this time?”

“I… It’s not that simple! I couldn’t just… This is just why Ikumatsu would be good for you! Why do you have to be so stubborn and not let her know that?”

Again, Zura looked away, but now he was blushing and scowling at once, as if he'd been rebooted into a tsundere. “But I might not be good for Ikumatsu-dono,” he muttered. “And besides… Maybe my heart’s not pure enough for her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe there’s one or two other people I like, too,” said Zura in a low voice, only barely audible. Then he turned his head and looked at Gintoki. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Is this what this is about?”

“I’m not doing anything like that!” protested Gintoki. “But she’d be better for you, that’s all! I’m a mess. And I can’t… Zura, I can’t _offer_ you what you should be able to have.”

Again, Zura gave him a look of utter bewilderment.

Gintoki couldn’t meet his gaze anymore. He looked down at the table. “That’s why I haven’t said anything. This whole time. If I say you should be able to have more… but if I can’t offer anything more, at least not _enough_, then it’s useless to say it.”

“But… You offer me plenty, Gintoki.” Zura’s voice was soft now, unbearably so. It tore at Gintoki.

He shook his head. “Not what you should have. Not enough. I wish I could. I really wish I was a better person, someone more whole… someone who could do that.”

“But it’s not a problem for me…”

_”No._ It should be. You do deserve more, idiot. And I can’t…” He took a deep breath. In a bleak tone, he continued, “Like... it's like this. There's this. Room inside me. That I can't get into anymore, can't open, it's locked now... but still there. It belongs to _that_ bastard."

He didn't raise his head to look at Zura, but he registered Zura's shape going even more still than before. "And. Even if it will always be all locked, even if he'll never come back to us... I still have to stand guard over it. I just have to. It's still there." He opened up his right hand, palm up, then let it fall down to hang at his side.

It was silent.

He heard a deep intake of breath. Katsura was standing with his back against him, now, before the window. Snow was falling outside, white against the blackness of night.

Zura moved, stopping only when he was very close to him. Gintoki looked up to see warm eyes and a small smile. “I want him back too, you know,” he said quietly.

He brought a hand up to Gintoki’s cheek, holding it there for several seconds. Gintoki closed his eyes.

“You two have always been so wrapped up in each other you can’t see what’s under your noses.” Zura removed his hand, and Gintoki opened his eyes. Zura’s eyes in the lamplight looked clear as water. “But,” he continued slowly, closely, “if he can come back to us, if there’s still a room inside him that belongs to you, one he hasn’t managed to burn down…” His voice increased in strength, “Do you really think none of you have rooms inside you that are for me? That I’ll be left outside, then?”

Gintoki said roughly, “Of course I don’t think so.” Then he grunted, after a moment, “I can’t speak for that bastard, though… But really, if he hasn’t managed to burn down _my_ room, yours should be fine too.” He paused, then said, “…Bet your room is somewhere up in the attic behind a lot of old rubbish blocking the way.” He grabbed Zura by the wrist and yanked at it, trying to get him to sit down.

“Oh? Then _your_ room must be outside the house proper, in a coal shed outside it!” Zura looked indignant for a moment, but then got a distracted look on his face as he finally complied and sat down beside him. “…You know,” he mused, “now we’re making it sound like his inner house is really posh.”

“Once a Richie Rich, always a Richie Rich,” mumbled Gintoki. He swallowed, feeling off-balance. “I bet Tatsuma’s inner house looks like a ship,” he offered.

Zura gave a fond smile at that. “A floating nightclub kind of ship.” He didn’t inch away as Gintoki moved a little closer, letting his thigh graze against Zura’s. “What about yours?” he only asked.

Gintoki blinked. “Uh? I guess… it’s just like a regular house… Like the Odd Jobs place, or our old school. Sort of looking like both but with more rooms? Was only supposed to be a metaphor…”

“Mine is more like a campfire… But since you raised the room issue, I suppose there are tents nearby.”

“Mm-hm.” Gintoki put his hand over Zura’s.

“Your hand’s cold, Gintoki.”

“So warm it up,” he whispered roughly. 

Zura leaned his head against Gintoki’s shoulder, and Gintoki could feel him exhaling slowly, deeply.

“But you know, Gintoki…” he murmured. “If he does come back, even if there’s no room for me… even if I’ll just be the old acquaintance dropping by to say hello every five years or so… I would still want that.” His voice started to get unsteady. “If the two of you would be fine… it would make me so happy.” He started to cry, almost silent sobs as tears rolled down his cheeks. But he was smiling as well at the same time. 

Gintoki shook his head helplessly, reaching out to try and wipe Zura's tears away with just his hands, having to move his seat a bit to reach right. 

“Idiot. When you keep saying stuff like that," he murmured, "how am I not supposed to think you're so much better than me?" It was bewildering, seeing Zura cry like that, for real, not dumb over-dramatic tears over some made-up melodrama. Small sobs, but real ones, snot and hiccups and all. It had been a long time.

Although he wasn't crying that hard, Gintoki's hands weren't of much use, so he brought up his wide sleeve instead, drying Zura's face carefully. He even put a bit of force to it, like Zura would have done if it had been the other way around. The fussy idiot, he thought, and couldn't help but smile a tiny bit.

Zura closed his eyes now, and the tears had stopped. Gintoki hesitated, intending to sit back again, but then wondered if he shouldn't say something. But Zura grabbed his shoulders and leaned his forehead towards Gintoki's.

"It might not ever happen," he mumbled, in a close voice, thick with emotions, yet firmer again now. "It might all be burnt down."

Gintoki breathed in the smell of Zura's hair. "Yeah," he agreed, and his voice was softer than he thought it would be. "And it doesn't. Change anything. In what we need to do." 

Zura didn't raise his head yet, and held onto Gintoki's shoulders a bit longer. "I know," he said simply.

* * *

He fell asleep that night holding Zura, an arm slung over his side, his face close to the other's hair, the two of them drifting like a raft through the ocean of night. Even now a voice in his mind mumbled, _I'd better get out of here. I should get up and leave as soon as I can_, and while that thought was like a small flickering flame in the strangely deep calm he was engulfed by, it was still there. And maybe it was the truth. 

But when he woke up the next morning it was Zura who had left, Gintoki's clothes tidily folded together next to the futon, a spare key residing on top.


	5. By The Side Of Those They Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has spoilers for the Battle at Rakuyo arc, the Silver Soul arc, and the final Gintama arc.
> 
> Thank you to all of those who read this fic to the end!  
If you have any thoughts about it, I would love to hear them.

On the open plain under the grey sky of another planet they stood, surrounded by enemies. There were tremors in the ground, the battle noises dark, low; high, sharp. Chemical scents filled the air, with an undertone of sweat and blood; in their mouths was a taste of metal-danger-exhilaration.

And also: a vibration that, while still a little bit careful, a little bit cautious, not wishing to hope for too much, nevertheless crackled with words unspoken and something like relief.

They faced every cardinal direction, back to back, each holding a weapon: a bokuto, a gun, a regular katana, and a _shikomizue_ katana.

A few surface-proud and tetchy remarks on one side, edgy stand-offishness on the other, and a valiant attempt at mediation in the middle, all to lighten the mood. Thank heavens, as always, for Tatsuma Sakamoto.

Their allies were on the move, fighting hard to catch up with them – but the four of them were the vanguard, and they knew it was up to them to go on the offensive. Like how it was supposed to be.

Together, they raised their weapons, and charged.

* * *

* * *

It was seven days after the end of the great battles, after the Altana Liberation Front had been defeated, the Altana eruptions had ceased, tamed and settled, and even Utsuro had finally been taken down, at enormous cost and effort. The Amanto mothership had still crashed down, but slowed-down enough that the resulting devastation was much more local and less ultimately catastrophic than what could have been. The wounded had been taken care of, the dead were buried, and ships at sea and in the air had started to go back and forth, transporting food, medicine, and people.

And Gintoki was walking away from his home.

Kagura was leaving Earth with what was left of Sadaharu on her own mission. Shinpachi stayed behind to take care of Edo. Who knew when they’d be seeing each other again?

A pessimistic voice at the back of Gintoki’s head whispered, _maybe never_ \- but he didn’t truly believe in it. Not after all that had happened. Still, he had to go on doing what only he could do. If he’d stayed here for longer, postponing and procrastinating, it would only get harder to leave.

He hadn’t been walking for all that long through the city, using various detours around all the ruins and rubble, when he saw a familiar figure perched on the crumbled wall of a ruin, as if he’d been waiting for him. And he probably had.

“You’re leaving.”

He stopped, looking at the other from underneath his new traveller’s hat. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I have things to do.”

“Away from Edo.” Zura was drumming his fingers on the brick wall, looking thoughtful. “Are you… Is it the dragon’s veins? The outlets of Altana?”

Gintoki felt his face grow more closed. “You know it is,” he said roughly. “That man… He kept coming back, before. I might be wrong… but I need to look.”

“Even if it takes a long time.”

“Even then.” Gintoki picked his ear. “You’re _not_ leaving.”

Zura shook his head. “No. I need to be here and help with the rebuilding.”

Gintoki looked upwards, to a sky that was mostly overcast, where a half-hidden sun shone weakly through a thin sheet of whiteness. “Figured that,” he said easily. “Gonna call in some political favours, right?” He took off his hat to scratch his head, then put it on again, not used to the weight yet.

“I’m not denying that,” said Zura, though he did frown a little, putting his arms in his sleeves. “I’m going to do what it takes in order to remake this country. Not rebuild it to just how it was. To something better.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll do your wheeling and dealing.” Gintoki put in a bored tone as a comfortable cover. He figured it couldn’t be an easy road ahead of Zura. But in the end, if anyone could do it, it was him, wasn’t it? “Have fun with it,” he finally said.

“There’s one more thing, Gintoki,” Zura said, urgency in his voice as if Gintoki had already started walking away. “Takasugi.”

Gintoki raised his head questioningly. “Mmh?”

“He survived the crash too, you know,” Zura said quietly. “He left the ship without a word, but he’s been seen since. I was worried since he was wounded, but the report said he was moving just fine and looked good.”

“Oh.” After a moment, Gintoki rallied, “Of course he survived it. Bastard’s too tough to go down that easy.”

“It was one of my men who saw him, entirely by accident. It was none of my trained spies, but even if it had been, I’m sure Takasugi would still have spotted him… Anyway, he gave the man a message to pass on to me.” Zura paused, and when Gintoki said nothing, he continued, putting some of Takasugi’s diction in his voice, “’_Tell him I have no intention of lifting a finger for this rotten country._’”

A smile tugged at Gintoki’s lips. “That’s him all right.”

Zura brought out a folded piece of paper from inside his sleeve. “He also passed on this note.”

He handed it over, and Gintoki read, ‘I may be in touch. Or not. Go to the top so I can bring you down.’

Gintoki peered at Zura and gave him the note back. “Definitely him. Are you worried?”

Zura put the note back into his sleeve, and now he was smiling, too. “Please,” he said. “Like I couldn’t take him.”

A silent moment. Far away, a woman was sobbing loudly. A large vehicle passed on the next street over, rumbling slowly no doubt to avoid crashing into rubble.

It felt like a small vibration passed between them. Not intensely, but there all the same.

Gintoki drew breath. “Zura-” he started.

“I wonder what salacious adventures you’ll be up to away from me,” said Zura brightly. 

Gintoki gave him a flat look. “If you think you’re being funny and cool now, just stop. Please stop. Forever.”

“All those pretty village girls. You’d better remember to bring condoms.” Zura patted Gintoki on the shoulder – but Gintoki countered with a kind of one-armed hug that was almost a headlock and which nearly made Zura tumble down from his perch on the rubble.

“Stop trying to be a twinkly-eyed uncle or a discount Tatsuma,” he grumbled. “That doesn’t suit you.”

But – there was something about Zura’s wording that would have alarmed him not all that long ago and didn’t, now. ‘Away from me.’ Not staking a full claim, but still setting up markers, as it were. Jokingly, but… he’d never done that before.

Gintoki found it strange to realize he didn’t dislike that.

Zura was wordless for a moment, but then rallied. “Ho ho ho! Sounds like you’re shy, Gintoki!” he sputtered obnoxiously, not getting that much air in his position.

“Idiot.” Gintoki let go and gave him a smack on the head. “And it’s not ‘ho ho ho’, it’s ‘ahahaha’.”

Zura kicked him on the shin. “Ow!” protested Gintoki. “Why do you always go there? Bastard!”

Then he picked up his fallen hat and tied the strap under his chin. “Anyway,” he said drily, feeling more cheered up now, “go romance all the widows you want, then. Idiot wig.” He ruffled Zura’s hair, hesitated for a split-second – it was broad daylight, after all, even in a city of ruins – but then leaned in and kissed him square on the lips, tipping his hat back.

The sun came out through a rift in the sheet of clouds, warming Gintoki’s back. Zura reached up and tugged his hair, lightly.

“Stupid perm,” Zura called after him as Gintoki walked away a minute later. He sounded a little breathless. Gintoki waved without looking back.

* * *

* * *

A fake assassination, a shattering explosion that was secretly carefully controlled, all to lure the enemy down from the heavens to where they could be attacked - and to meet them, they were running side by side, the three of them. 

Running ahead, breathlessly yet happily, allies left behind because this was, above all, _their_ battle to fight, their problem to take care of.

Running, running, but though they were treading paved city streets and heading for lethal battle in the space terminal, it felt more like grass and the earth of foot-paths under their feet, like it was the old school building they were glimpsing behind leafy trees, as if it had never been burnt down; as if it had always been waiting for them.

There was no time to lose. Three boys, one heart.

_We’re coming, Sensei._

* * *

* * *

* * *

The climb up to the bedroom window was the same as always. The curtains were drawn, and the window closed, but that presented little problem for Katsura, who fiddled away with a wire as he clung to the wall and window frame. He rapped lightly on the window a couple of times for courtesy’s sake, then opened it up just in time to be met by Gintoki planting a hand on his masked face.

“That mask does not get to come in here,” Gintoki said sourly, pushing him outwards, at a risk of falling down if Katsura had had a little worse sense of balance. 

“Tsk. How unadventurous of you,” grumbled Katsura, voice muffled by the double combo of mask and hand, then managed to nudge his face away and take the mask off. Gintoki removed his hand at that and stepped _very slightly_ aside, enough that Katsura could make it through and land on the tatami-clad floor with a roll. 

“I thought Leader had claimed this room now,” he remarked, getting to his feet and looking around. The futon hadn’t been rolled out yet.

“And you still climbed in?” Gintoki smacked him on the head. “What an impure guy. You’re the worst.”

Katsura rubbed his head. “That’s what the knocking was for. And I was fully prepared to close my eyes if need be. Also, I mostly thought it would be empty. It’s not that late yet.”

“Excuses, excuses!! And where did you hear it's hers, anyway? It’s not like it’s been settled… The topic is under discussion every day, believe me.”

“You’re smelling of booze,” remarked Katsura with a frown. Gintoki was by no means reeking, but it was noticeable at close range.

Gintoki shrugged. “Client gave me a bottle. Waste of time not to drink it.”

Katsura put his hands into his sleeves, opened his mouth to disagree, then closed it. “...Is there anything left of it?” he said instead.

“Think so. I’ll go check,” said Gintoki. “You know, I never said you could come in,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, presumably. “You’re such a pushy guy.”

“So says the pushiest guy in all of Edo,” Katsura retorted. He walked over to the closet and brought out two futons and some bedclothes. Gintoki didn’t offer any comment as he returned with one bottle of sake and two cups, just plunked himself down on one of the futons.

“Anyway,” he said while pouring out sake for Katsura, “Kagura’s gone on a so-called ‘Girls’ Night Out’ tonight, and said she’ll sleep over at her buddy’s place. Can you believe it?” He handed the cup over, then held out his own so Katsura could return the favour, which he did carefully. “She’s still only 16!” Gintoki continued. “People will say, who’s that Gin-san fellow, such an irresponsible guy just letting this teenager go out on town, what if she gets drunk even though she’s a minor, what if some fast-talking seducer sets his eyes on her…” 

“All of Leader’s female friends are good at handling themselves,” Katsura broke in. “Who is she with?”

“Ah, she’s with Soyo and Nobume. Maybe Tsukky will show up, too.”

“That’s fine. Leader’s in no danger, then.” 

“I know that! I know full well the only ones in danger will be the poor sods who’ll get victimized by coming across those sadistic lunatics and gorilla girls! But people might still get the wrong idea…”

Katsura sighed. “Gintoki…”

“Don’t you ‘Gintoki’ me. Public opinion is a thing, you know! And you have some nerve, I never even said you could come inside and you’re already settling in for the night.”

“Shh.” Katsura leaned over and kissed him. Gintoki kissed back. He felt soft and welcoming, but not all that hungry - probably not that interested in going much further right now. 

Which suited Katsura fine, as he was fairly tired himself. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and it had been a long day. “Look,” he said, “I took off my vigilante mask for you. You should be grateful.”

“I’m going to burn that thing,” muttered Gintoki, scowling. He emptied his sake cup and put it down with an angry flourish. “I can’t believe you’re running around in a skintight bodysuit. You’ve always been so twitchy about showing skin like some damn Western prude…”

“There’s nothing Western about modesty!” protested Katsura. “But…” he admitted, “...maybe it was time to set it aside for a bit. To run more freely.” He exhaled, and took another sip of sake. It wasn’t very good, but passable. “Besides, I always liked that old comic,” he added more quietly, his fingers sliding over the surface of the old cup. It had cracks in it, aged and venerable: might be from Otose-dono’s own cupboard. “Little Oba-Q, such a scamp… Homages do have their place.”

“But you still put on your kimono tonight,” Gintoki pointed out.

“Sometimes it gets chilly.” Katsura said, smiling a little. 

“You’re not having that bodysuit on underneath, do you? Do you?” Gintoki raised up the collar of Katsura’s kimono to peek, sounding personally offended at the thought. How silly of him. But he settled down again at the sight of bare skin.

They finished up the bottle in silence. Sounds leaked out from the bar downstairs. Someone had turned on the karaoke machine and was now exuberantly singing an old H*roshi Its*ki song. The curtains were half open, letting in some of the city lights while the sky darkened from evening into night.

He shifted his seat and adjusted his kimono. Carefully, he asked, “Did you hear? About the infant Matako Kijima found?”

Gintoki nodded, looking into the bottom of his empty cup. “Tatsuma wrote me about it,” he said. “Said he'd been talking to you. Couldn't tell me yourself, could you?”

“I know sometimes the roundabout way is the easiest way to reach an elusive guy,” said Katsura. “Getting through the noise and chaos around him.” 

“Like you didn't add a good part of that noise,” mumbled Gintoki. Then he drew a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. Another silence passed. Quietly, he said, “I don’t know what to think.”

“She might be deluded… There might not be a connection.” Katsura paused, then continued bleakly, “Even if there is one… if he never remembers his old life, it’s just like it was any other child. And perhaps that would be for the best. For his sake.”

It felt so cold to say that. But all the pain and darkness of that past life… that was no kind of burden to wish on a child.

“I told him to wait for me in hell, Zura,” said Gintoki quietly, hoarsely. “Do you figure he was just too impatient?”

“Ah… When you put it that way…” Something not all that different from nostalgia made him smile, then blink hard for a few moments.

He took a deep breath, then continued, even more gently, “But if Sensei… If Sensei _could_ do anything for any one of us, I think he would.” Reaching out, he ran his fingers through Gintoki’s hair tentatively. 

Gintoki didn’t pull away; instead he turned his face to Katsura’s and his hand on the back of Katsura’s head, nudging him closer. They exchanged a few kisses, featherlight ones. Gintoki’s expression didn’t change. 

“Everything changed and now nothing has changed,” mumbled Gintoki eventually, his voice still rough, head bowed enough that the hair fell over his eyes. “That’s how I thought I wanted it, but… There’s too much of it, I can’t believe in it. It’s like when the creators of a videogame listen too much to the fans and give them all they asked for in the new release, and the fans realised they didn’t really want all that, now that they have it.”

“But isn’t that why things aren’t too perfect?” said Katsura, tone brighter now. “That everyone’s still complaining and creating a ruckus? That our new Prime Minister reinstated a police force of infamous thugs?”

“Hey.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. The manga had to end somewhere. It was like herding everyone into the same small space to take a group photo, but afterwards they get to move again. And it’s all moving forward still. Bit by bit and in many directions…”

“Yeah…” Gintoki didn’t look at him, though, his face still molded by loss. Katsura felt he could hear the thought as clearly as if it had been said out loud, by either of them, _But not everyone gets to be in that group photo._

He shivered, the deep ache coming back; he wanted to draw his kimono tighter but didn’t move. The man had lived beautifully until the end, in his final stretch of life, but the end had come far, far too soon.

He reached out, nudging himself on the futon so he could reach out and take both of Gintoki’s hands, his thumbs massaging their sides gently. They felt cold, colder than usual.

* * *

_His hands are warm,_ thought Gintoki, letting Zura hold his hands without a fuss. He squeezed Zura's hands, even. He breathed in, slowly, a part of him wondering distantly what the point of warming up even would be. Closing his eyes, he breathed out. 

Ducked his head forward, leaning it against Zura’s shoulder. Let go of one hand to stroke Zura’s side up and down slowly. 

“You know,” he eventually said, voice clearer again, “those brats have become so big now.” Zura had one hand on his back now, a sense of warmth spreading out from it. “More than you’d think just from their years. Hell, even though they’re not out there leading armies they’re likely more mature than we were at those ages.”

“Certainly more mature than you were,” agreed Zura, his hand stroking Gintoki’s back. Gintoki didn’t think he needed that much soothing, but it was fine, if it was making Zura happy he could keep doing it for just a bit more. 

“You shut up,” he said, and then eventually leaned back to lie on the futon, tugging on Zura to follow him down. It was more comfortable there, and the sake was making his head spin. “But all the same,” continued Gintoki with a grumbling tone, “there’s no way I’m going to let that gorilla girl keep throwing me out of my own damn bedroom. If that’s what she thinks she has another think coming.” They were a bit at angles where they lay, so he put one of his legs over Zura’s. Warmer that way.

“Mmhm,” said Zura noncommittally, then let out a big yawn, arms stretched over his head. So he was tired too, huh. Made sense, running around in that ridiculous get-up and doing gods-knew-what silly pranks he claimed to be vigilantism. Maybe there was some deeper thought to all of that, or maybe it was just about attention and adrenaline. 

Gintoki suddenly found himself wondering if anything would be different now if little Zura hadn’t so often had to be the Sensible One among the three of them. If he’d been able to run more freely back then, get more silliness out of his system... 

“You know… you were right.” Zura interrupted Gintoki’s train of thought. 

“Huh?”

Zura moved to lie on the side, facing Gintoki. “About the house across the street. It never was torn down, in the end. As you must have noticed.”

“Which house? I have no idea what you’re babbling about now… oh.” He rubbed his forehead, the memory of that New Year’s night returning, now. “So?”

“It’s changed owners, though,” continued Zura. “It’s been bought by an old Jôishishi sympathiser who’s recently come into a bit of money. He’s willing to let me rent it again, the big flat on the second floor this time.”

Gintoki picked his nose. “I see.” After a moment, he said, in a tone of indifference, “Maybe I’ll stop by now and then. Since it’s so close.”

“Excellent!” said Zura, beaming. “Do bring your own pajamas and toothbrush. Oh, and this will be a good opportunity for you to start wearing socks. The floor can be cold there and you’ll smell so much better… ow.”

Gintoki took away his elbow from Zura’s face. “Don’t go overboard… Hey, wait a minute!” He sat up. “Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait. Your penguin monster thing. Is he still going to hang around?”

Zura sighed, sitting up as well. “How many times do I need to tell you that Elizabeth is not a thing? _Hopefully_ , he will indeed grace my new premises with his presence on a daily basis.” He smoothed the cover over his knees. “But he will, in fact, have his own place in my old flat downstairs. It was his idea. He feels he should be more independent.” Zura lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think he might just be gaining some interest in having ladyfriends!”

Gintoki rolled his eyes. “You are the biggest, dumbest granny ever, Zura.”

Zura clearly chose to ignore this. “To tell you the truth, Gintoki,” he said, “I’ve become rather used to living with a companion these past few years. I support dear Elizabeth’s advances in maturity and independence, but it will be more lonely.” In a more chipper tone, he said, “That’s why I’m glad you decided to join me!”

“Hey, hey, I’m not moving in! I’ll just be coming to visit! Visit!!…And wait a minute, I was your second choice?!”

Zura patted his cheek. “Don’t be silly, Gintoki. Of course you were.”

Gintoki swatted away Zura’s hand and gave him an unamused stare. “Asshole. Maybe I won’t even come visit.”

Zura kissed him on the nose. “Remember, your own toothbrush. And don’t steal my conditioner again.” He lay down once more, rolling over on the other side. 

“Tch.” Gintoki smiled despite himself. “You’re impossible.”

“Mhm.” Zura’s voice was muffled. “You’d better start wearing socks.”

“You’d better get rid of that mask.” Gintoki sat and watched Zura for a moment or two. He looked so dumb and peaceful, so crazy and beautiful. 

Then he poked him in the back. “Oi. Don’t go to sleep with your clothes still on. It’s peacetime.”

Zura sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Oh. I forgot.” He blinked. “I just… went with the flow.”

“What an idiot,” said Gintoki lazily, starting to change into his green pajamas himself. He tossed an old T-shirt to Zura, who wrinkled his nose but accepted it.

“You know,” Gintoki murmured a couple of minutes later, drawing the covers over them as they lay spooning, “I doubt the kids will mind much if you stay for breakfast this time.” 

He drew his hand up and down Zura’s arm, feeling a small tremulation - a vibration, really, underneath that skin. Then Zura slowly breathed out, like a wave reaching the shore after many miles at sea. 

“Yes,” he murmured, “perhaps I will…” He reached back and took Gintoki’s arm by the wrist briefly. Almost too low to catch, he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“It’s my home, dammit,” said Gintoki, his voice a little thick. “Where else would I be?” He kissed Zura by his ear. “This is typical Kabuki District nonsense, me in bed with a moron and we’re not even having sex.”

“‘Nobody with a natural perm is a decent person’” quoted Zura. “Clearly I’m the one who should be lamented. You corrupter.”

“Clearly nothing, idiot.” Gintoki closed his eyes, breathing in. “You went back to your old shampoo,” he said quietly. “I like this one better.”

“Can’t change too much, can I?” said Zura drowsily. “Not supposed to. You either.” He shifted, pulling at the covers, another yawn passing through him, and then to Gintoki. “We… we did promise...”

His voice tapered off, and just a moment later he’d started to snore peacefully. His eyes opened with the usual creepy look at first, but then they started to blink, and finally closed. If Gintoki had this right, it meant Zura felt unusually safe right now. 

Downstairs, he heard the usual noises from the bar closing up, with chairs put up onto tables, Tama sweeping up, Otose and Catherine nudging the last stragglers through the door, any of them ready to bodily throw out stubborn patrons... Then putting things away and turning out the lights. Home noises. 

Loss was still in him, pain and wounds and big gaping holes where living people should have been. But he was also _here_ still, in the middle of this dumb beautiful dirty city, right next to this dumb beautiful idiot, with Shinpachi and Kagura and so many other idiots out there who were still marvellously alive. Living beautifully. Or at least, trying their best to do so.

He breathed out, allowing the wave of night to draw him under. 

_Damn straight I’ll corrupt you_, he thought, one arm still slung over Zura’s sleeping form. _Tomorrow I’m going to make you sleep in for once. Eating breakfast with the rest of us. Shinpachi will click his tongue at you for being late. Kagura will try to steal your food. I’ll probably hit you a few times at least for idiocy. Don’t change, Zura._

And maybe there was an extra set of toothbrush-and-pajamas in Gintoki’s future… but he still wasn’t going to start wearing socks. 

_ _-End._ _


End file.
